On the
nights subsequent to Ãcariya Mun’s attainment of
vimutti, a number of Buddhas, accompanied by their
Arahant disciples, came to congratulate him on his
vimuttidhamma. One night, a certain Buddha,
accompanied by tens of thousands of Arahant
disciples, came to visit; the next night, he was
visited by another Buddha who was accompanied by
hundreds of thousands of Arahant disciples. Each
night a different Buddha came to express his
appreciation, accompanied by a different number of
Arahant disciples. Ãcariya Mun stated that the
number of accompanying Arahant disciples varied
according to each Buddha’s relative accumulation of
merit – a factor that differed from one Buddha to
the next. The actual number of Arahant disciples
accompanying each

Buddha did not represent the total number of his
Arahant disciples; they merely demonstrated the
relative levels of accumulated merit and perfection
that each individual Buddha possessed. Among the
Arahant disciples accompanying each of those Buddhas
were quite a few young novices.23 Ãcariya Mun was
skeptical about this, so he reflected on it and
realized that the term “Arahant” does not apply
exclusively to monks. Novices whose hearts are
completely pure are also Arahant disciples, so their
presence did not raise issue with the term in any
way.

Most of the Buddhas who came to show their
appreciation to Ãcariya Mun addressed him in much
the following manner: “I, the Tathãgata, am aware
that you have escaped from the harmful effects of
that monstrous suffering which you endured in the
prison of saÿsãra,24 so I have come to express my
appreciation. This prison is enormous, and quite
impregnable. It is full of seductive temptations
which so enslave those who are unwary that it is
extremely difficult for anyone to break free. Of the
vast number of people living in the world, hardly
anyone is concerned enough to think of looking for a
way out of dukkha that perpetually torments their
bodies and minds. They are like sick people who
cannot be bothered to take medicine. Even though
medicines are plentiful, they are of no use to a
person who refuses to take them. “Buddha-Dhamma is
like medicine. Beings in saÿsãra are afflicted with
the painful, oppressive disease of kilesas, which
causes endless suffering. Inevitably, this disease
can be cured only by the medicine of Dhamma. Left
uncured, it will drag living beings through an
endless succession of births and deaths, all of them
bound up with physical and mental pain. Although
Dhamma exists everywhere throughout the whole
universe, those who are not really interested in
properly availing themselves of its healing
qualities are unable to take advantage of it.

“Dhamma exists in its own natural way. Beings in
saÿsãra spin around, like wheels, through the pain
and suffering of each successive life – in the
natural way of saÿsãra. They have no real prospect
of ever seeing an end to dukkha. And there is no way
to help them unless they are willing to help
themselves by holding firmly to the principles of
Dhamma, earnestly trying to put them into practice.
No matter how many Buddhas become enlightened, or
how extensive their teachings are, only those
willing to take the prescribed medicine will
benefit.

“The Dhamma, taught by all the Buddhas, is
invariably the same: to renounce evil and do good.
There exists no Dhamma teaching more exceptional
than this: For even the most exceptional kilesas in
the hearts of living beings are not so exceptional
that they can transcend the power of Dhamma taught
by all the Buddhas. This Dhamma in itself is
sufficient to eradicate every kind of kilesa there
is – unless, of course, those practicing it allow
themselves to be defeated by their kilesas, and so
conclude that Dhamma must be worthless.

“By nature, kilesas have always resisted the power
of Dhamma. Consequently, people who defer to the
kilesas are people who disregard Dhamma. They are
unwilling to practice the way, for they view it as
something difficult to do, a waste of the time they
could otherwise spend enjoying themselves – despite
the harm such pleasures cause them. A wise,
far-sighted person should not retreat into a shell,
like a turtle in a pot of boiling water – it is sure
to die because it can’t find a way to escape. The
world is a cauldron, boiling with the consuming heat
of the kilesas. Earthly beings of every description,
every where, must endure this torment, for there is
no safe place to hide, no way to elude this
conflagration burning in their own hearts – right
there where the dukkha is.

“You have seen the truly genuine Tathãgata, haven’t
you? What is the genuine Tathãgata? The genuine
Tathãgata is simply that purity of heart you have
just realized. The bodily form in which I now appear
is merely a manifestation of relative, conventional
reality.25 This form does not represent the true
Buddha, or the true Arahant; it is just our
conventional bodily appearance.”

Ãcariya Mun replied that he had no doubts about the
true nature of the Buddha and the Arahants. What
still puzzled him was: how could the Buddha and the
Arahants, having attained anupãdisesa-nibbãna26
without any remaining trace of relative,
conventional reality, still appear in bodily form.
The Buddha explained this matter to him:

“If those who have attained anupãdisesa-nibbãna wish
to interact with other Arahants who have purified
their hearts but still possess a physical, mundane
body, they must temporarily assume a mundane form in
order to make contact. However, if all concerned
have already attained anupãdisesa- nibbãna without
any remaining trace of relative, conventional
reality, then the use of conventional constructs is
completely unnecessary. So it is necessary to appear
in a conventional form when dealing with
conventional reality, but when the conventional
world has been completely transcended, no such
problem exists.

“All Buddhas know events concerning the past and the
future through nimittas that symbolize for them the
original conventional realities of the occurrences
in question.27 For instance, when a Buddha wishes to
know about the lives of the Buddhas who preceded
him, he must take the nimitta of each Buddha, and
the particular circumstances in which he lived, as a
device leading directly to that knowledge. If
something exists beyond the relative world of
conventional reality, that being vimutti, then there
can be no symbol representing it. Because of that,
knowledge about past Buddhas depends on mundane
conventions to serve as a common basis for
understanding, as my present visit illustrates. It
is necessary that I and all of my Arahant disciples
appear in our original mundane forms so that others,
like yourself, have a means of determining what our
appearance was like. If we did not appear in this
form, no one would be able to perceive us.

“On occasions when it is necessary to interact with
conventional reality, vimutti must be made manifest
by the use of suitable conventional means. In the
case of pure vimutti, as when two purified cittas
interact with one another, there exists only the
essential quality of knowing – which is impossible
to elaborate on in any way. So when we want to
reveal the nature of complete purity, we have to
bring in conventional devices to help us portray the
experience of vimutti. We can say that vimutti is a
‘self-luminous state devoid of all nimittas
representing the ultimate happiness’, for instance,
but these are just widely-used, conventional
metaphors. One who clearly knows it in his heart
cannot possibly have doubts about vimutti. Since its
true characteristics are impossible to convey,
vimutti is inconceivable in a relative, conventional
sense. Vimutti manifesting conventionally and
vimutti existing in its original state are, however,
both known with absolute certainty by the Arahant.
This includes both vimutti manifesting itself by
means of conventional constructs under certain
circumstances, and vimutti existing in its original,
unconditioned state. Did you ask me about this
matter because you were in doubt, or simply as a
point of conversation?” “I have no doubts about the
conventional aspects of all the Buddhas, or the
unconditioned aspects. My inquiry was a conventional
way of showing respect. Even without a visit from
you and your Arahant disciples, I would have no
doubts as to where the true Buddha, Dhamma, and
Sangha lie. It is my clear conviction that whoever
sees the Dhamma sees the Tathãgata. This means that
the Lord Buddha, the Dhamma, and the Sangha each
denote the very same natural state of absolute
purity, completely free of conventional reality,
collectively known as the Three Jewels.”

“I, the Tathãgata, did not ask you that question
thinking you were in doubt, but rather as a friendly
greeting.”

On those occasions when the Buddhas and their
Arahant disciples came to visit, only the Buddhas
addressed Ãcariya Mun. None of the disciples
accompanying them spoke a word as they sat quietly
composed, listening in a manner worthy of the
highest respect. Even the small novices, looking
more adorable than venerable, showed the same quiet
composure. Some of them were quite young, between
the ages of nine and twelve, and Ãcariya Mun found
them truly endearing.

Ordinarily, the average person would see only
bright-eyed, adorable children. Being unaware that
they were Arahants, one would most probably be
tempted to fool around, reaching out playfully to
stroke their heads, without realizing the
impertinence of doing so. When Ãcariya Mun spoke
about this, I thought mischievously that I would
probably be the first to succumb to the urge to
reach out and play with them, despite the
consequences. Afterwards, I could always beg their
forgiveness.

Ãcariya Mun said that, although they were young
novices, their behavior was very mature. They were
as calm, composed, and impressive to see as all the
other Arahant disciples. In short, all the Arahant
monks and novices who accompanied each Buddha
exhibited impeccable behavior worthy of the highest
respect. They were neat, orderly, and pleasing to
the eye – like immaculately folded robes.

Ãcariya Mun
had always been curious to know how walking and
sitting meditation were practiced at the time of the
Buddha. He also had questions about the proper
etiquette to be used between junior and senior
monks, and whether it was necessary for a monk to
wear his formal robes while doing meditation. When
such questions arose in his mind, invariably one of
the Buddhas, or an Arahant disciple, appeared to him
in samãdhi and demonstrated how these practices were
originally performed in the Buddha’s day. For
example, Ãcariya Mun was curious to know the correct
manner of practicing walking meditation so as to
show proper respect for Dhamma. A Buddha or an
Arahant then appeared, demonstrating in detail how
to place the hands, how to walk, and how to remain
self-composed. Sometimes, these demonstrations
included explicit instructions; at other times, the
methods were demonstrated by example. They also
showed him such things as the proper way to sit in
samãdhi, including the most suitable direction to
face and the best seated posture to assume.

Ãcariya Mun had some strange things to say about how
junior and senior monks showed their respect for
each other. Ãcariya Mun wanted to know how monks at
the time of the Buddha conducted themselves with
appropriate respect toward one another.30 Shortly
after this thought arose, the vision of a Buddha and
many Arahant disciples appeared to him. The Arahants
were of all different ages – some were young, others
older, a few being so old that their hair had turned
completely white. A considerable number of small
novices of all ages accompanied them. However, the
Buddha and his disciples did not arrive together –
each Arahant arrived individually. Those arriving
first sat in the front, while those arriving later
sat further away – without regard for seniority.
Even those novices who arrived earlier sat ahead of
the monks who arrived later. Finally the last monk,
a very elderly man, arrived to take the last
available seat – way in the back; but the others
showed no sign of shame or embarrassment. Even the
Buddha himself sat down in whichever seat was
available at the time he arrived.

Seeing this,
Ãcariya Mun was somewhat incredulous. Could it be
that the monks at the time of the Buddha did not
respect seniority? It was definitely not an
inspiring sight. How could the Buddha and his
disciples proclaim the sãsana and then expect people
to have faith in it when the sãsana’s leader and his
closest disciples behaved in such an indiscriminate
fashion? Instantly, the answer arose in his heart
without the Buddha and his disciples having offered
any comment: This was an instance of pure
vimuttidhamma devoid of any trace of relative,
conventional reality – so there was no fixed order
of propriety. They were demonstrating the true
nature of Absolute Purity,31 being perfectly equal
for all, irrespective of conventional designations
such as young and old, or high and low. From the
Lord Buddha on down to the youngest Arahant novice,
all were equal with respect to their state of
purity. What Ãcariya Mun had witnessed was a
conclusive indicator that all the Arahant monks and
novices were equally pure.

This having been made clear to him, he wondered how
they deferred to each other in the conventional
world. No sooner had this thought arisen, than the
vision of the Buddha and the Arahants seated before
him changed. Whereas before they had been sitting
together in no special order, now the Buddha sat at
the head of the assembly, while the small novices,
previously in the front, sat in the last seats. It
was an impressive sight – worthy of the highest
respect. At that moment Ãcariya Mun clearly
understood that this image represented the
traditional way in which monks at the time of the
Buddha showed each other respect. Even Arahants who
were junior in rank were obliged to respect those of
their seniors who were practicing correctly but
still had kilesas in their hearts.32 The Buddha then
elaborated on this theme:

“The
Tathãgata’s【譯按：The
term”
Tathãgata” is often thought
to mean either "one who has thus gone" (tathā-gata)
or "one who has thus come" (tathā-āgata).即「如來」之意】
monks must live in mutual respect and friendship, as
though they were all one single entity. This does
not mean that they are friendly in a worldly way,
but rather that they are friendly in the equal,
unbiased way of Dhamma. When my monks live together,
even in large numbers, they never quarrel or display
arrogance. Monks who do not respect their fellows
according to the principles of the Teaching and the
Discipline of the Buddha, are not worthy of being
called the Tathãgata’s monks. Even though those
monks may imitate the disciples of the Buddha, they
are merely impostors making false claims. As long as
monks respect each other according to the principles
of the Teaching and the Discipline – which
substitute for the Buddha himself – and never
violate these principles, then wherever those monks
live, whenever they were ordained, whatever their
race, status, or nationality, they remain true
disciples of the Tathãgata. And whoever is a true
follower of the Tathãgata must surely see the end of
dukkha one day.”

The Buddha and all his disciples vanished instantly
the moment he finished speaking. As for Ãcariya Mun,
all his doubts had vanished the moment that vision
appeared to him so clearly.

Concerning Ãcariya Mun’s doubts about the necessity
of wearing the formal robes when doing meditation:
one of the Arahant disciples appeared to him,
demonstrating how it was unnecessary to wear them
every time. He personally demonstrated when and how
sitting and walking meditation should be practiced
while wearing the formal robes, as well as the
instances when it was unnecessary to wear them.
Every aspect of a monk’s robes was made clear to
him, including the correct color for a monk’s three
principal robes. He showed Ãcariya Mun ochre-colored
robes that were dyed from the heartwood of the
jackfruit tree in three different shades – light,
medium, and dark brown.

Careful consideration of these episodes is enough to
convince us that Ãcariya Mun always had sound,
acknowledged precedents for the way he practiced. He
never jeopardized his vocation by merely guessing
about things he was unsure of. Consequently, his
practice was always smooth, consistent, and
irreproachable from beginning to end. Certainly, it
would be hard to find his equal nowadays. Those
adopting his mode of practice are bound to exhibit a
gracefulness befitting disciples of such a fine
teacher, and their own practice is sure to progress
very smoothly. However, those who prefer to flout
convention are like ghosts without a cemetery, or
orphans without a family. Having forsaken their
teacher they may well modify the practice to suit
their own opinions. Ãcariya Mun possessed a
mysterious, ineffable inner compass to direct him in
these matters, one which none of his disciples could
ever match.